


Sky of Faulted Stars

by Vixiviolet17



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Fault in our stars - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixiviolet17/pseuds/Vixiviolet17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenlock crossover with Fault in Our Stars.</p><p>Not crossover in the sense that they meet Hazel and Augustus, but in the sense that I borrow their plotline, and tweak the ever loving hell out of it to suit my own sadistic whims. The plot may stray from either source as this goes forward so it won't just be a retelling. </p><p>I won't promise this will end the same way either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

I dislike stating the obvious.

But there is a rather horrible human habit of downplaying sad stories and immortalizing happier ones. In current pop culture, all sad stories are merely plot devices in the lagging second act of a romantic comedy, separate the leads only to make the reuniting more sappy in the end. This is usually a montage of the two leads pining and some soon to be forgotten pop ballad drowning out the whole thing. Hollywood seems to love this cliche. I however like the somber reality of a true story, one that doesn’t come with a script and a pop song ending.

This is ours.

My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I’m dying. Well not today obviously but inevitably, and much sooner than your average human walking this earth. They found it when I was thirteen and it was your average terminal illness nightmare. Chemo, surgery, radiation, relapses and moments of hope for my parents and older sibling who fussed constantly and made their life all about taking care of the poor cancer child. I was pulled from school (though no great sorrow about that one) . Being independently educated allowed my mind to develop at its normal accelerated rate and I was not bogged down by the throng of idiots that wander through the public education system. I read every book in our house and cleaned out several shelves at the public library since I spent so much time unable to walk due to how weak this awfully mortal illness had left me.

Even worse was the damn oxygen tank that I was forced to wear. I detested the ridiculous thing and yet it had become my constant companion, an extension of myself that I couldn’t leave behind. My older brother had bought a custom made pack in all black to make it draw less attention, but the tube across my face still was the first and often times the only thing people looked at.

My only solace was my research and my telescope. It had been a present during one of my relapses from my mother. I’d been wheelchair bound for a time thanks to the chemo and my pathetic lungs. She’d thought that perhaps being trapped in my rooms would be a bit more bearable if I could gaze at the cosmos. And this was the one time in my life that my mother happened to guess correctly. My room was now littered with homemade star charts as I worked to map all the known galaxies. The infinity of the sky made me hopeful that there had to be something more than this short weak existence.

This is the story of how I discovered my ‘something more’… his name was John Watson.


	2. Support Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cause you're a sky cause you're a sky full of stars  
> I'm gonna give you my heart

It started at one of those support groups I was forced to attend. My doctors had gotten it into Mother's head that spending too much time alone was not good and that socializing with other terminally ill teenagers would be a solution. Apparently they figure that only the dying can understand the dying so better to keep us all grouped together lest we infect the healthy adolescents with our bleak outlooks.

These groups were as dreary as you might imagine and I spent the majority of each hour once a week mentally deducing the attendees or trying to mentally work out one problem or another. Each week the adult who led the group would ask everyone to state their name, age, and the particular type of malady that afflicted them. My only solace was that many of the attendees seemed as uninterested as I was and I noticed from watching the dropoffs in the parking lot that I was not the only one forced or coerced into this activity. One younger boy even appeared to be taking monetary bribes from his mother per session he successfully completed.

Each week when my turn came I would quickly list off the following: Sherlock, 17, lung cancer. I always felt ridiculous having to say that last part as it was painfully obvious from my breathing tube and oxygen tank. A year previous they had been pretty bleak about my prognosis but my family name had pulled some strings and gotten me in on a clinical trial with a new drug that was experimental. I'd agreed more for the sake of my brother and mother than for any real hope. But over the year the masses in my lungs had shrunk and I'd not grown any new ones. Yet I still couldn't breathe correctly on my own power, so thus the tank. I explained this the first week at the behest of the leader but refused to do each week as the repetition threatened to choke my brain.

Group that week went on as normal with the exception of one new face that ducked in 10 minutes late and grabbed the chair opposite me in the circle. Dying of boredom I surveyed him and quickly let my brain begin to deduce his history for lack of a better subject. He came from a lower income home, as the holes in his jeans were not there as a fashion statement, and the oatmeal colored jumper he wore looked as though it had already seen several previous owners before him. His sand colored hair looked as though he'd skipped a needed hair cut or two and fell over his forehead, nearly into his eyes, which stopped me in my thoughts as they were a dark blue and staring right back at me. I looked away for a moment, feigning attention in the speaker although I'd tuned him out eons ago. When I glanced back he was still staring at me, only this time with a curious half smile. 

"How about you there, our late comer? Your turn." The leader interrupted our staring contest, zeroing in on the new face.  
The blond boy shrugged and stood up, revealing that he hadn't been blessed in the height department and then spoke in a casual tone.   
"Alright then, I'm John Watson, 19 years, what else?"  
"Your diagnosis?"   
"Oh that...well two years ago I had a malignant bone cancer mass removed from this shoulder here which means I've got a pretty ugly scar on either side, but since then my scans have been clean."  
There was a small silence then, and expressions of both envy and sedated acceptance flitted through the audience before John took his seat again, this time looking back at me and grinning for no fathomable reason.  
"Well welcome John. Today our topic is what are you afraid of?"  
John thought for a moment then let out a sigh that ruffled the shaggy blond bangs over his forehead. He looked back at me again then and smiled that crooked grin once more.  
"Boredom."  
A few snickers from the group arose, and but John didn't blink in his stare. It felt as if he was challenging me to look away. Even the idiotic leader of the group finally picked up on it.  
"John, do you know Sherlock?" The older man asked.  
I didn't look away either, not wanting to show weakness in this battle of wills that I hadn't agreed to engage in. I would let him answer that stupid question. John lifted just one eyebrow in a gesture that was both mocking and provocative all at once.  
"No, but I'm going to."


	3. Come with Me

Group droned on for the next 40 minutes, and I spent the majority of it attempting to pretend that I didn't notice John Watson's incessant staring. He was rather relentless and I spent the last 10 minutes mentally making a list of all the ways I could call him out on it when the meeting was finally over. But when the time ended and everyone rose, I looked up and didn't see him anywhere and actually felt a touch of disappointment.  
I grabbed the handle of my tank and made my way back to the front of the community center, my car and driver were nowhere to be seen as of yet. I watched as the other teens either drove off or were collected, usually a good scale of how far into their disease they were. I even found myself smirking as I watched David's mother sigh as she forked over a handful of bills to her son. David's frown loosened then, but only once he'd counted the money.

I yanked my cell phone from the pocket of my coat and began to try and bring up my texts to see if my brother had bothered to inform of the reason for my drivers' delay. A few feet away a slick little sports car pulled up and parked crooked in a nearby space. The leggy redhead wearing designer jeans barely had time to shut her car door before she was pressed back against it by another of the teens from group. Henry, the boy who'd lost an eye to his cancer and was scheduled to soon have the other one removed. I vaguely remembered the boy talking about being thankful for his girlfriend despite being faced with losing his eyesight permanently.   
I could see why the other boy was so hung up...the girl was clearly out of his league. Henry had wealth but wasn't the most attractive young man, and the redhead who's space he invaded looked like she had stepped out of a magazine ad. I looked away as Henry immediately set upon kissing her and both of them began chanting the same word back and forth whenever he let her up for air.

"Endlessly."  
"Endlessly."   
I grimaced and looked back down at my phone, but the smacking, giggling, and chanting of that word continued quite loudly. I was just about to lose it and yell something biting just to get them to shut up when another shoulder bumped mine.  
"Sorry mate, my fault."  
The shoulder and cheeky tone belonged to none other than John Watson. He was even more attractive close up and I was alarmed at the fluttering thump in my chest when he flashed that same crooked grin he'd worn while speaking earlier. I quickly looked back to my mobile, despite the fact that my brother still hadn't texted.

"So that was a bit depressing in there wasn't it? Is it always like that?" John ventured, and when I looked back I saw that he was still watching me as he had during group. The guy clearly had a problem with staring and manners.  
"Yes it's normally that dull." I muttered, and looked back at him. I watched as his grin widened a bit when he saw that I wasn't about to back down again.  
"What's your name?"  
"You heard it inside." I muttered. "Repetition bores me."  
"So what's your full name then, Sherlock?"  
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, satisfied?"  
It seemed near impossible but that grin broadened a tad more and his dark blue eyes lit just a bit. I felt completely off, no one ever wanted to chat to me after these meetings. All the other teens were often content to avoid me as much as I avoided them. This prolonged company was a foreign experience.  
"Quite. That's quite a mouthful, I can see why you chose to go with Sherlock out of that lot though."   
"And why's that?"  
"It's the unique choice, suits you."  
"Cause I'm a freak as I'm sure the others have warned you?" I felt my face flush a bit at that remark, even as I willed myself not to show how much I hated that damn word even if it did fit.  
"No, cause you're quite stunning." And he winked.

I couldn't control the flinch and he chuckled. I had a feeling that perhaps he'd been put up to this by the others, possibly a bet to see if he'd come onto me. I looked around to see if anyone nearby was paying any attention to this encounter, but no one appeared to be observing at all. The only remaining teens around were Henry and the poor female who he was currently slobbering all over in between reciting that same adjective to over and over.

"For God's sake, what is their obsession with that word?" I looked away, unable to deduce exactly what motive John Watson could possibly have for his last comment.  
"It's like their defining word I suppose. Henry tried to explain it but to be honest I tuned most of it out. They say it back and forth, he's texted her that word more than likely a good couple hundred times over the past few months. He claims it's cause it describes how much they love each other...endlessly."  
"How melodramatic and ridiculous."  
"You don't find it a romantic gesture?" John was baiting me now, I could hear it in his voice.  
"No, I find it a symbol of a limited vocabulary."

He laughed then, a deep throaty laugh that despite my misgivings I found rather contagious and couldn't hide the smile that pulled at my face. The sun turned his sand colored hair gold as he moved out from the shade of the tree and then he turned and looked over his shoulder at me once again.  
"Come with me, let's go watch a film or something."

I was as unprepared for the invitation as if he'd asked me to accompany him to Mars. People never spoke to me for more than a few moments let alone desired my company for anything further. I found myself stuck for a response.  
"My brother was sending a car....I can't just go." It had to be a trick.   
John shrugged and turned around with a smile. "Fine, then your place it is."

"You realize you just invited yourself to a stranger's home? I could be a serial killer for all you know." I offered, trying to give him an out...expecting him to take it, but half hoping he didn't.

"There is always that possibility isn't there?" John shrugged and then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and proceeded to stick one between his smirking lips. I felt a hot flush of anger and couldn't stop my rant before it exploded out.  
"For God's sake!! You could not be more of an imbecile! You honestly think I'd be impressed by you smoking?!! I'm wearing a oxygen tube, as if it wasn't obvious enough. As much as I used to think breathing was overrated, I can honestly say that not being able to is far worse you moron."  
John slowly pulled the offending object from his mouth, all the while watching me with a look that I couldn't quite decipher.  
"Sherlock Holmes, do you see a lighter in my hand?" He asked slowly.  
"No, but I'm sure you have one in your trousers."

He shook his head, sand colored hair falling over his forehead. "I don't light them."  
"Then what is the point?"  
"It's a metaphor."  
"You have got to be kidding."  
"I am. I just think it makes me look cool." He started laughing and stuck the cigarette behind his ear. His following grin was so hapless I couldn't help but chuckle.

Just then the sleek black car that my brother favored pulled up and the window rolled down to reveal our regular driver.  
"Sorry I'm late Sir, do you need to make any other stops before returning home?"  
I hesitated for a moment but then thought just how much Mycroft would dislike being proven wrong about me. I glanced sideways at John and then looked back at the driver.  
"No, but John Watson will be accompanying me this afternoon."

*********************


	4. Murders and Comets

John sat beside me for the first five minutes of the ride and said nothing. The silence was deafening and as much as I hated idle chatter I almost found myself hoping he would speak. But when he did it was to ask a boring question and I regretted my earlier desire.  
"So tell me your story Sherlock Holmes,"  
"You heard my summary in group I'm sure."  
"No, not your disease story... I want to hear your story. Who the hell is Sherlock Holmes anyway? Other than a mighty mouthful of a name? What are your hobbies, likes, favorite food, what do you dream about at night?" He rattled off his questions like a shopping list and I had to hesitate in my response as I tried to figure out which one to dissect first.  
"I don't eat much...the medication kills my appetite which aggravates my brother and mother to no end. They are forever trying to force food on me and it's annoying."  
"The burdens we have to bear." John smirked and then motioned for me to continue.

"Likes? Solitude, getting the best of my brother as he makes hilarious faces when angry, the days when I don't feel like my lungs are on the verge of collapse, and ..." I waited a moment before adding the real answer to his question but then figured I'd come this far I might as well expose my two passions. "....detective work, unsolved murder cases, and astronomy."  
His blue eyes lit a bit. "You mean like the stars and planets?"  
"Yes, although there's a lot more to it than that."  
"I know that git.... but wait, go back to the thing about murders?"

This is where I expected to lose him but I started to explain anyway. Might as well get his retreat out of the way early, although I would be disappointed not to get to prove Mycroft wrong. " Unsolved murder cases, I find them fascinating. There is always little details that the police seem to miss, and often times I feel that these details will lead to deductions that could solve the cases. If I wasn't dying I'd fancy trying to become a detective one day just to try and expose the idiocy of Scotland yard."

"You think you can solve murders better than the coppers?" John's grin widened a bit and instead of shrinking away in horror as I'd expected, he actually leaned in closer and looked amused.  
"I don't think. I know."  
"Prove it." 

I turned then to meet his eyes, even as the car was pulling into our driveway. "What?" He was even more good looking up close, with a small scar on the underside of his chin probably from a schoolyard scuffle of some sort. His hair did need cutting but the way it fell across his forehead completed his look somewhat perfectly. 

"Solve a murder Sherlock Holmes, and take me with you so I can watch." He leaned in close enough that we were nearly nose to nose and I could smell the cinnamon scent of whatever gum he'd been chewing earlier. My skin prickled as my ever whirring mind suddenly blanked out completely.

"Master Sherlock? We have arrived." Our driver's voice cut in and shattered the moment. John had the nerve to wink at me as he sat back in his seat and the car stopped.  
It took a moment for my brain to figure out how to bring itself back online and by the time it did, my driver was opening the door for us to get out. I collected myself as i dragged my tank from the car and heard rather than saw John clamber out behind me.

He let out a low whistle as he looked up at the manor, and I couldn't help but smile to myself. John Watson, as good looking and charming as he had thus been, he obviously had little experience around wealth and his manners were atrocious per socialite standards... Mycroft and Mummy were going to hate him, this was going to be great fun after all.

********************

 

John continued to gape like a tourist as I led him into the manor and back into the north wing where my rooms were. I was somewhat disappointed that Mummy and Mycroft were nowhere to be seen, but that fun would come eventually. By the time we made it to my suite I needed to sit down, my lungs were burning and the oxygen from my tank was doing little to soothe it after all that walking. I turned away from him as I struggled to force my lungs to take in the air. Showing weakness was the worst thing about my disease, it forced me to wear my vulnerability on my sleeve and I hated it. 

John gave me the dignity of pretending not to hear my wheezing and I sat down in one of my plush chairs and just focused on righting my breath pattern for a moment. When I had recovered I looked up and saw John standing by the bay window where my telescope was set up. I could tell by the way his fingers twitched that he wanted to touch it or look through it even thought it was still daylight. I said nothing as I watched him then move on to my notebooks that were spread over the window seat cushions, all my calculations and constellation sketches seemed to spark his interest and he reached for one of my notebooks but then stopped himself and glanced in my direction.

"May I?"  
"Go ahead." I doubted he'd understand all the equations and sketches so I didn't mind him browsing. He held the notebook gently as if afraid he'd mark the pages with his fingers and I watched for a moment lost in the way his expression changed as he viewed each page with interest.

After a moment I felt capable of movement again and I rose to join him by the window. As I drew near he looked up from the notebook, that crooked grin slowly sliding back across features.  
"You really are brilliant aren't you?" He said slowly, the words laced with admiration. 

My heart stuttered for the briefest of moments and I looked right at him. As much as my inner demon tried to convince me that this was all a cruel tease....John didn't break but instead stepped closer to show me the page he was looking at.  
"What's all this about a comet trajectory?" He pointed at a series of calculations and my sketch of a possible comet moving through the constellation of Capricornus, his movement brought him close enough that his shoulder pressed against mine as he held up the page. Even through my thick coat and his ratty sweater, his warmth radiated through that one point of contact and it took me a moment to respond.  
"I just discovered that a week or so ago, I'm relatively sure it's a new find as I've not been able to find anything official on it online as of yet. I've been tracking it's movement." I explained, trying not to focus on the fact that John had yet to move away from my side.  
"Really? You discovered a bloody comet?" 

"If my findings are correct, yes."  
"Are you going to report it? You could probably get it named after you!" His voice rose a bit when he got excited and it was infectious.  
"I've written emails to the astronomers at the observatory in edinborough but they have gone unanswered."

"You need to go there then and show them all this. "John gestured wildly at my notebooks.   
"It's a good idea...my doctors won't allow it though."   
"Hang the doctors, you should go anyway." John swatted at the air as if the advice of trained physicians was nothing but flies to be shooed. I liked him more in that moment, if it were possible.  
"Perhaps one day."  
He turned his head toward me and our close position cause his forehead to brush the underside of my jaw causing a full body shiver that I tried my hardest not to show.

"No perhaps about it Sherlock Holmes, there are two things that I will insist you do this summer. Solve me a murder and get this comet named." 

******************


	5. Come on Over

Mycroft and Mummy returned home together by chance just as John announced he needed to head home. I had escorted him out front and John was relaying his directions to my driver.   
"Sherlock? Who is this?" Mummy could barely hold her inquery in as she exited our other town car. I watched as she took in John's jumper and faded jeans. Even better was the surprise on Mycroft's face as he rounded the other side of the car.   
"I'm John Watson, it's nice to meet you Mrs. Holmes. " John's open smile as he walked over and extended his hand was enough to overcome my mother's distaste of his clothes and his common handshake.

I couldn't help but chuckle as she let John gently shake her hand. Mycroft so far had said nothing, merely gaped at John like a codfish. I heard the sound of someone laughing and it took me a full 5 seconds to realize it was me.  
"John was just leaving." I stated after I'd collected myself.  
"Pity, Sherlock will have to invite you to dine with us sometimes soon." Mummy intoned as John stepped back toward the car. John nodded and smiled at her as she turned to lead her driver into the house with her shopping bags.

Finally Mycroft found his voice. "Yes of course. We'd be delighted to see more of you, Sherlock has so few comrades his own age."  
John's smile hardened just a bit at Mycroft's jab but then morphed slightly into a mischievous grin.   
"Oh I'm sure you'll be seeing quite a bit of me." He turned from the car and stepped back over to me, grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently for a moment. His other hand reached into my trouser pocket and slowly extracted my smart phone. My whole body felt like I'd brushed a live wire.

His palm was hot to the touch compared to my cooler skin and I suddenly felt as if my oxygen drips had been clamped off even though I could still taste them working. I watched as he texted himself the number then handed the phone back to me.

"We have plans for the summer, don't we Sherlock?" He drawled, not dropping my gaze for nearly a full a minute. I could again smell the cinnamon on his breath and the deep blue of his eyes had me transfixed until Mycroft cleared his throat loudly.  
John reluctantly let go. "I'll be calling you, Sherlock."  
"Yes...right." I stammered as he sauntered back to the car and climbed in.

I stared after the black vehicle as it bore him down the driveway, my smart phone still grasped in my hand. This whole afternoon had been surreal to the point of disbelief. I'd never taken much notice of others my age, as their lives had never seemed particularly that interesting. John Watson seemed to sidestep all of my assumptions and then spin them all around. He didn't fit any of my patterns or parameters and my brain grabbed onto his puzzle hungrily. I couldn't help the smile that pulled at my face as the car disappeared from sight. It didn't even falter when Mycroft leaned in to mutter.

"For God's Sake little brother, have a little dignity and at least play hard to get for a time."

**************************

After four days I had two possible conclusions in my head.

1\. My mobile had somehow developed some sort of odd techno virus that was prohibiting it from receiving calls or texts.  
2\. That I had imagined John Watson entirely.

When I found myself checking my mobile for the fourth time in an hour one afternoon I angrily stalked over to my nightstand and dumped in the infernal thing into the drawer, then slammed it shut. I scoured through my mind palace to see if hallucinations or hysteria were side effects of any of my medications. There had to be a reason for this sudden desire to communicate with another person, one I barely knew...one who very well could have been bribed to put me on that day. I tried to convince myself of all the possible reasons that Watson could have acted the way he did towards me. A bet, a bribe, cruel joke, morbid curiosity. All the reasons that teenagers in the past had ever used to befriend me for a fleeting moment here and there. None of those reasons seemed to fit. It was like trying to force a puzzle piece in where it didn't belong.

I dumped my mental energies into researching that comet, as well as stalking the headlines about recent cases. I read through five different books, and even entertained a notion of organizing the books in my room into a topic based index pattern. I had just yanked all of them from my bookshelves and was beginning to stack them into piles by subject matter when my mobile began to hum and rattle angrily from inside my nightstand.

It took exactly 5 seconds to cross the room and it was in my hand.   
"Hello."  
"Sherlock Holmes." John's sunny tone sounded through the receiver and I found myself not knowing what to say, as if I hadn't been obsessing over this moment for days.  
"Sorry I've not phones sooner, had some family things going on and ..." John was interrupted then by a loud wail in the background, then came the sound of John trying to console someone.

"Henry....come on mate...Henry!"   
It had to be the one from group, who'd been manhandling his girlfriend the other day.   
"Sorry.. Henry is having...a rough go of it at the moment." John explained, and there was another agonized cry in the background.   
"You still there Sherlock?"  
"Yes...I am." I'd suddenly lost all access to my vocabulary.

"How fast can you get here?"   
"It depends on where 'here' is."   
"Oh yes, of course I'm a dolt. My house. " John rattled off an address in town and I scrambled for a pen and paper, writing it down quickly.  
"You're going to come then?" John pressed, as the wails gained volume behind him.  
"I think I can manage to make my way there."

"Right then, quickly please." John hung up at that and I pondered for a moment if this could all be a ruse or some sort of awful trap. Henry Knight wasn't the most popular boy, despite his pretty girlfriend, and wasn't likely to be the ringleader of any kind of group. Also not quite intelligent enough to pull off a bullying scheme. And as much as I didn't want to admit it, the idea of seeing John Watson again was too tempting to pass on.

************************


End file.
